Chapter 15 in Mr Cunningham's POV
by edessa
Summary: An assignment for english. Rated teen to be safe.


AN: This was an assignment for english - I don't think I did a spectacular job on it, but let's see how you all think. This is my first, (and probably only) TKAM story. A oneshot in Mr. Cunningham's POV during the lynch mob chapter. Enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything having to do with To Kill a Mockingbird or Harper Lee. Except Susie - I completely made her up.

Chapter 15 in Mr. Cunningham's Point of View

While I was driving up to the jail in my beaten up car with the rest of the mob, I was thinking. It was something I rarely do. Usually I just think about working, and keeping my poor family fed. The depression had hit us farmers more than the city-folk. I'm not ashamed at being poor…God gives us our lives, and status' for a reason. I don't understand why he let my family become penniless, but I won't question his decision. I just make the most with what I've got, and hope it'll feed my wife and children.

Right now though, I was thinking about the innocent look on Walter's face right before I left to meet up with the rest of the men. He had grinned at me, and said," See you when you come home, Daddy!" I hadn't told him what I was doing so late at night. For that matter, I hadn't told Susan, my wife, either. Neither of them knew I was about to become a murderer. They could stay innocent for just a bit longer. I could see wrong in what we were about to do – but killing Tom would be a just action on all our parts. He had _raped_ a white woman! But the look on Walter's face…could that be the same innocence that the black man might have? Did Tom really rape Mayella? I shook my head in confusion. It would take too long to wait until the court decided Tom's case. So we would kill him tonight.

A screech from a car behind mine brought me out of my thoughts. We were in front of the jail now. My heart sunk when I saw Atticus Finch, Tom's lawyer, reading a newspaper in front of Tom's cell. This would be a problem. I respected Atticus – he wasn't exactly what I would call a friend, but he was a kind, respectable sort of man. I wanted to hurt the nigger, not Mr. Finch. I'm pretty sure the rest of the mob felt the same way, because of the hesitation that we all showed as soon as we saw Mr. Finch. But the moment passed and we all marched up to the cell door. Mr. Finch looked up from his newspaper, and set it down in his lap coolly, as if he had been expecting all of us.

"He in there, Mr. Finch?" A man in the group asked bluntly.

"He is," the man answered. "And he's asleep. Don't wake him up."

Another man spoke up. "You know what we want. Get aside from the door, Mr. Finch."

Mr. Finch looked pointedly at us. "You can turn around and go home again, Walter. Heck Tate's around somewhere."

This gave us all a boost of confidence. We knew where the sheriff was, and he certainly wasn't anywhere near here. "The he is," said another man. "Heck's bunch's so deep in the woods they won't get out till morning'."

If the information upset Atticus, he let no sign of it show. "Indeed? Why so?"

"Called 'em off on a snipe hunt. Didn't you think a'that, Mr. Finch?"

"Thought about it, but didn't believe it. Well then. That changes things doesn't it?" Atticus sounded as relaxed as normal.

"It do." A deep voice sounded.

"Do you really think so?" Atticus almost sounded dangerous when he asked.

All of a sudden the mob and Mr. Finch heard the sound of footsteps and a child's shriek. A little girl I recognized to be Mr. Finch's daughter, Scout, pushed past the men in the mob. Her sweet, innocent voice cut through the tense air. "H-ey, Atticus!"

If Mr. Finch hadn't been worried before, he sure was now. A real look of fear was in his eyes, and it was just fading when the sight of another two children, Jem and Dill, made the fear return.

Mr. Finch stood up, trembling a little. "Go home, Jem. Take Scout and Dill home."

Jem stayed still.

Mr. Finch put on a very authoritative voice. "Go home, I said."

The boy shook his head, and all of us grown men were silent, watching the display between the father and son. We were surprised – usually Mr. Finch's kids were very prompt about following his orders.

"Son, I said go home."

The boy shook his head again.

A burly man of the mob, Ben, yanked the boy up roughly. "I'll send him home!"

At this the girl exploded. "Don't you touch him!!" She aimed her kick at Ben's shin…but went slightly above. Ben stumbled back in pain. The girl almost seemed surprised that she had actually caused real pain. I couldn't help but snicker a little – I never really liked Ben that much. He was too arrogant. Well, now he learned his lesson.

"That'll do, Scout." Atticus set a hand on her shoulder to stop any more violence. "Don't kick folks." As she started to protest, he stopped her. "No—""

She raised her voice. "Ain't nobody gonna do Jem that way."

A man clearly had had enough of this. "All right, Mr. Finch, get 'em outa here," he growled.

Mr. Finch went back to persuading Jem to take the kids home, but he wouldn't budge.

Meanwhile, Scout had been watching us. She caught my eye, and she recognized me. "Hey, Mr. Cunningham."

I tried to ignore her, I really did. I was too confused to know what to do at this point.

She raised her voice. "Hey, Mr. Cunningham. How's your entailment gettin' along?"

I was surprised she knew about that…Mr. Finch had probably told her. I was still bewildered, and slightly embarrassed, so I blinked and hooked my thumbs in my overall straps. Clearing my throat, I tried to look anywhere but the innocent little girl in front of me.

She obviously wasn't giving up. "Don't you remember me, Mr. Cunningham? I'm Jean Louise Finch. You brought us some hickory nuts one time, remember?"

I didn't know what to do. Whenever I saw her face, her innocent little eyes, her high pitched voice…I saw Walter. My conscience was taunting me now. _Murderer….You're going to be a murderer._ _Whatever will your son think? Knowing that his Daddy's a murderer?_

Scout continued on. "I go to school with Walter. He's your boy, ain't he? Ain't he sir?"

I almost choked. The girl really knew how to hit a sore spot. I managed a faint nod towards her.

"He's in my grade, and he does right well. He's a good boy. A real nice boy. We brought him home for dinner one time. Maybe he told you about me, I beat him up one time but he was real nice about it. Tell him hey for me, won't you?"

At the part when she said Walter's a good boy, I almost choked again. Yes, Walter was a good boy. Not like his father. My mouth was beginning to hang open. This little girl…who didn't even know the significance of what she was _talking_ about…was putting us all in Mr. Finch's shoes. I never had understood why Mr. Finch was standing up for Tom. Until now. He had kids; he wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing that he was a murderer, and at the same time trying to raise his kids to be good people.

Scout wasn't done yet. "Entailments are bad." She seemed to realize everyone was staring at her now, open-mouthed. She seemed to be getting uncomfortable now, embarrassed almost.

"What's the matter?" she asked, looking around.

I decided I needed to do something. I couldn't feel right about killing Tom now. So I squatted down and took the girl by the shoulders. "I'll tell him you said hey, little lady," I said softly. I straightened and wondered if I'd ever regret the decision I'd come to. I thought about it for a second, and then decided not to worry about it. This was the right thing to do; this is what Walter would have wanted me to do. I waved my hand towards the cars. "Let's clear out. Let's get going, boys."

We all slowly shuffled our way to the cars, some of us turning our heads back at the little girl in fascination, some of the things she had said still sinking in. Doors slammed as the men got into the cars, and we drove away. I looked through the window behind me, and saw Mr. Finch leaning on the wall in a show of relief. Scout went over to him and tugged on his sleeve, but then I saw no more. They were too far away.

All us men were silent as we drove home. We were still slightly bewildered at what just happened, as we probably would be for the next few days. The cars started separating, going to the individual farms. I arrived to mine, and going in the front door, I saw Susan waiting for me.

"I sure hope you didn't kill him."

I sighed. "No, Susie. We didn't."

She asked no questions, just smiled kindly. "I'm glad." She put an arm around me and guided my tired feet to bed. Before stepping into the bedroom, though, I opened Walter's door and peeked in. I saw the innocent face bathed in blue moonlight, his chest lightly rising and falling with each breath. I 

smiled, and stepped out and into my own bedroom. Laying down and pulling the covers over myself, I was happy knowing I would be able to sleep with myself tonight. All because of a little eight year old girl.

Another AN: I used some words in here, (like nigger) because of the story setting, and the narrator's stance on the issues of TKAM. NOT because I'm racist. I'm not racist in any way, and I hope I don't offend anyone in any way because of using racist words.


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